


I've never seen such Perfection

by FairyArtLover



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Cherik - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik is a Sweetheart, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Picnic, THAT scene from the 1990 TV series, only for a moment, unmasking, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyArtLover/pseuds/FairyArtLover
Summary: Rewrite of the picnic scene in the Phantom of the Opera 1990 TV series.How i think Christine should have reacted.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	I've never seen such Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there again! Welcome!  
> THAT scene in the 1990 TV series really made me angry and i could not rest until i made it right. I love Christines character in all its forms, but she was really hard to love at the end of this series. So i decided to fix that!  
> Cherik is SUCH a sweetheart and he deserves more love! I want to see more 1990 POTO content even if it has to come from me!  
> Forgive me for rambling, thank you for sticking around to read all of that.  
> I hope you enjoy!

“Let me look at your face” He stilled, tense. Christine held her hands tightly in her lap, wanting to touch him and erase his fear but knowing it would only frighten him further. He slowly lowered his arms and looked at her, pained.

“I’m afraid you’ve asked the one thing I cannot give you. Please don’t ask again” He looked away and avoided her gaze, taking the food out of the basket at a much quicker pace. He hurt as he said those words but tried to hide it from her. She, of course, saw through it. She hated to be the cause of his pain, but she told herself she had a reason for doing so. She wanted now more than ever to reach out, but again, she held herself.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I thought I wasn’t capable of handling it. I have seen your heart; I have seen your eyes. Why should your face matter after all the good I’ve seen?”

“If it does not matter why ask me to take my mask off?” He said angrily. He still avoided her gaze, even as she searched for his. His hands had balled into fists by his side, knuckles white. She placed her hand in the middle of the picnic blanket, trying to bridge the immense gap that she’d created

“Because I want the last barrier gone between us.” His posture melted from anger to shame. Christine moved closer, trying to do something, anything, to erase his shame, for he should not feel any but stopped when he grew tense. She continued talking, trying to make him see. “You know all my secrets, the shameful and the joyous ones. You have seen me at my best and at my worst and have stayed through it all. You have helped me in every way possible. Maestro, please, let me do the same for you.” He stayed quiet, still as stone, but his breaths were shallow as if he could not breath. She breached the last inches that separated them and placed her hand on top of his. His head shot up and the look in his eyes broke her heart. He was ashamed, scared, terrified, but the hope in his eyes shone through it all. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, as reassuringly as she could. The quiet seemed to go on for minutes until he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“It is not a face, it is hardly a semblance of a face. I cannot bare to burden you to such a thing.” Christine couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. This man, this wonderful, beautiful, broken man. How she wished to hold him and keep every bad thing away from him. How she wished to make every insecurity and dark thought disappear. Instead, she held his hand in both of hers and brought it to her lips. Even held within her hands, his still dwarfed hers. He gasped, astonished, as she gave a gentle kiss to each of his fingertips. She passed her thumb over the back of his hand and ran her finger over each callus, trying to memorize every detail that she could. His breathing become ragged and she looked up to meet his eyes. Tears were swimming in them and an emotion she couldn’t identify mixed in with the tears. Slowly, she brought his hand to her cheek and closed her eyes at its warmth. A choked gasp came from him, but his hand immediately cupped her face and his thumb hesitantly stroked her cheek.

“Do you know how I know I will not be repulsed by your face?” She asked him. She did not wait for an answer. “Because it belongs to you. As much as your hands, that teach so patiently and hold me so gently.” She nuzzled into his hand before opening her eyes and grabbing the other one and bringing it to the opposite side of her face. She met his gaze and smiled. “Because in that face are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, eyes that captivate me and always make me smile. Eyes that hold so much warmth and so much passion” Both his thumbs were gently passing over her cheeks, his touch as light as a butterfly’s. “Because that face belongs to the best man I have ever known. A man who saw me, a woman with nothing to offer and still decided to help her, expecting nothing in return. A man so gentle, so passionate, so loving that I cannot do anything but love him, all of him” Tear streamed down both their faces. She smiled at him, willing him to see the truth in her words. To the see the love she had for him and knowing that nothing will ever change that.

“Christine…” He choked. His eyes held a storm of emotions, each one passing too quickly for her to identify, but she saw clearly that he held so much hope for her words to be true, but everything in him telling him to ignore what was said and run. She did the only thing she could.

“Erik, I love you. Please let me love all of you.” Christine grasped at his hands that still cupped her face, her eyes never straying from his.

He was in turmoil. Every experience he had had with showing his face only ended in disaster. He did not want this to end in disaster. How he wanted the words to be true, how he hoped. Seeing her determination and her love for him clearly in her eyes made the air escape his lungs. How could such an angel love a monster like him? But the love was there in her eyes, clear for anyone to see. He passed his thumbs one last time over her cheeks before removing his hands from the sides of her face.

Christine slowly let go of him, prolonging their touch, not wanting to break the contact. She held her hands over her heart, willing for it not to run out of her chest. Erik looked down, again avoiding her gaze, and began untying the knot at the back of his head. His other hand kept the mask in place and when the knot was untied, he hesitated. Christine was patient, not hurrying him, knowing that that would do no good. He slowly took the mask off his face and closed his eyes. He didn’t dare lift his head and show Christine the horror of his face. He did not want to hear her screams, he did not want her to look at him in disgust or, worse, _fear_. He never wanted her to fear him. Willing himself to get on with it and without opening his eyes, he lifted his head.

For a few moments there was silence, which terrified him more than he thought possible. There were no expected screams, cries of horror or the sound of Christine running away. There was only quiet, which was worse than all the screams he’d endured. His hands began to shake but then the most unexpected thing happened. Gentle, small hands, hands that could belong to no other, held his face and erased the tears that he didn’t know were running down his cheeks. His eyes snapped open in surprise. Christine was in front of him, smiling. She was _smiling_ and _touching his face_. Without fear or disgust. He desperately held on to the hands that touched his face with so much kindness and love.

“Hello there Erik.” She had tears in her eyes but did not let them fall. She rubbed her thumb over his cheeks, in much the same way he did. Tears streamed steadily down his face and no matter how much she tried, some fell onto the blanket they were still sitting on. The utter _relief_ and _awe_ that flooded his face was reassuring as it was heart breaking. How many people had run away from him? How many times had people screamed at the sight of his face? How many times had it happened for him to think it was the expected outcome? Without thinking twice about her actions, she pressed small, butterfly light kisses all over his face, which only made more tears come.

“Does it hurt?” She asked quietly, afraid to break the spell around them, her forehead resting lightly on his. He shook his head and she pressed one last kiss on his brow. She wasn’t surprised when he fell into her arms and buried his face into her neck, silent tears hitting her bare shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t let any man be this close to her or to be touching her in such a way, but this was her Maestro, her Erik, and she would do anything she could to bring him comfort. She passed her hand through his hair, feeling its softness against her fingers, happy she finally knew how it felt after all the time she dreamt about it. They stayed like that for quite some time, picnic forgotten.

“How?” He whispered, his voice cracking on the one simple word, never taking his face from her neck, not daring to look at her face for fear she would push him away and scream in delayed horror.

“How what?” She said confused, just as quietly as him.

“How could you look at my face and not run away? Hold me like you do and not scream or be disgusted? Even Gerard cannot bare it.” Christine heart broke for Erik. How could someone live the way he did and continue to be kind? How could someone be so cruel and heartless to the man most deserving of love she had ever met? She hugged him closer, willing all his tears to go away and all the broken pieces to mend together by the sheer force of her embrace.

“Because it’s yours. Because that face it’s attached to your mesmerizing eyes, to your warm and gentle hands, to your voice that always makes me feel at home, to your lips that I always wondered what would feel like against mine.” She felt him gasp against her skin and his hands tightening against the fabric on her back. “I am not repulsed by your face because it is _yours_. And you are beautiful, face and all.”

“Do not say such preposterous things Christine” He tensed in her arms. How could a voice sound so angry and yet so sad?

“What have I said that is preposterous? All the words I’ve said are said in truth” He abruptly left her arms and sat up, avoiding her gaze. She could feel his anger rolling off of him in waves. He frantically searched for his mask. She tried to make him stop by laying a hand on his arm, but he shook it off angrily.

“Erik? What’s happened? What have I said to make you think that what I’m saying is untrue?” He turned around, furious, the anger and betrayal overflowing from his eyes. Christine tried not to flinch at his anger and tried to remain calm.

“Untrue? You’ve outright _lied_ Christine!” He screamed without raising his voice.

“All that I’ve said is true.”

“True? _True?_ How can you tell me you my face is beautiful and tell me it’s the truth? I may be a fool, but I am not blind” He turned away from her and began packing the forgotten picnic.

“I never said your face was beautiful.” He stopped, his back still turned to her. She hesitatingly put a hand to his back and immediately felt it relax under her touch. She pressed her forehead to the back of his shoulder. “I said _you’re_ beautiful.” He didn’t turn towards her, but his anger left, replaced with the heavy weight of tiredness.

“You are not making any sense Christine”

“I am making perfect sense, Maestro.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, turning her face towards his. He still hadn’t put his mask on and was staring straight ahead. She tired bringing a smile to his face with her mischievous remark, but he remained impassive.

“Tell me Maestro, would you still love me if I had no hair?” He didn’t turn towards her, but she saw the way his brow furrowed and the downturn of his lips.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Answer it. Please?” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, still not taking her eyes from his face. Her hand, without meaning to, began rubbing circles unto his back, feather light. Immediately his shoulder relaxed and, slowly, achingly hesitant, his face turned to her. Fear and a small trace of anger were still in them, but the utter fondness she found in them brought a smile to her face.

“Of course. Without a question” He answered. It was not a question he thought he would ever have to respond, but the answer was obvious and clear to him, in the same way the sky was blue and that the sun would rise.

“Would you love me if I had warts all over my face? If I had green skin and hairy feet?” He raised his eyebrow, but his answer was as sure as the first one.

“Of course. But, Christine, what on earth are you trying to solve with these confounding questions?” The hand that was not on his back, slowly, as to not make him uncomfortable, came up to his face.

“If you could still love me, with no hair, warts, green skin, and hairy feet: why is it so difficult to believe that I could love you, _despite_ of your face?” She was met with silence. At first there was anger, as if those two things could ever be the same. Then the shock settled in that, yes, those two things were _somewhat_ the same.

“But that is different Christine, you know that”

“How are they different?”

“Because you would still be _lovely_. You would still be _Christine_. I,” He couldn’t seem to want to finish his thought. Her other hand came to the other side of his face. He went to pull away, but her hands remained steadfast on his face. His eyes dropped down to the blanket. She noticed that his hands were balled into fists, but their shaking was still evident. One of her hands reached down to his clenched hands and held it.

“ _You_ are still my Maestro, _you_ are still the kindest man I’ve ever met, your heart is still _your_ heart, your eyes are still _your_ eyes. What I’ve seen doesn’t change that. Nothing will ever change the way I see you.” She paused for a moment, thinking if what she wanted to say would help or worsen the situation. In the end, she needed to let her feelings out. “I’ve never seen such perfection.” She knew her love and adoration were clear on her face when she said those words, his words. She wanted him to see that nothing would change between them. That his face would not deter her. His shock at hearing his words repeated back to him made her want to laugh, but she knew now was not the time nor the place. She gently brushed her thumb over his sharp cheekbone and, slowly as to give him time to pull away, she leaned in.

With her hands still cupping his face, she kissed him. And he kissed her.

The kiss was everything she had dreamed, and not, all at once. She found that his lack of nose did not deter from the perfection of the kiss, nor their tears wetting both their lips. His trembling hands steadied as they found purchase on her waist and hair. They gripped tightly onto her; afraid that she would vanish into thin air if he didn’t hold her tight enough. Afraid this was all a dream. That was fine by her, she would still be here when he realized this was real, and for now, she will hold him just as tightly. Her hand tightened on his jaw while the other travelled to the hair at the back of his neck, wanting to feel the smooth strands between her fingers.

At last, after what seemed like eternity but was still not enough, their kiss ended. They did not stray far from each other, their foreheads resting against each other. Their breath mixed with the others in the small space between them, their smile not leaving their faces, not that either wanted it to. They looked into each other’s eyes, captivated.

Erik couldn’t believe what had just happened. _Christine had kissed him._ His heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest and his brain couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened, but the look in Christine’s eyes as he looked at him, _without a mask,_ made all of the voices in his head stop for a moment. All his thought were consumed by _Christine. She had seen his face and she had kissed him!_ He could die right at this moment and he would be the happiest man on earth. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, marveling at the softness of her skin.

“Christine” He whispered. The way he said her name sounded like a prayer, spoken only for them to hear.

“Erik” She said in much the same way.

They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, for an instant that stretched into eternity, not a worry on their minds. Nothing mattered but them and that moment, everything else came second and could wait. As long as they had each other and they could wrap their arms around one another, everything would be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
